Death Is Rather Displeased
by LennaAttempts
Summary: In the error correction area of the afterlife, Harry learns that Voldemort killing him this time isn't the first time. His personal death manager isn't happy that he's failed to fulfill his fate, so he's sending him back one final time to defeat Voldemort, marry his soul mate, and live to be one hundred and forty-two. H/Hr, Reptilia28's Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

Reptilia28's challenge is an older one and already has quite a few stories written for it, but it interested me when I found it in another fic, so I'm giving it a go! I won't list the requirements here, as that would be rather boring, but I will follow them all, promise.

* * *

With the movement of a mouth and one flash of green light, Harry was dead. The ghosts were right. It didn't hurt at all.

But where was everyone? Harry found himself completely alone, groggy and confused. Through the fog, Harry heard a voice groan in exasperation.

"Fuck, not _again_."

Harry felt a sharp pain in his leg, enough to jog him awake. Where he found himself was nothing like how he had anticipated what the afterlife would be, if there was one.

He was sitting in a beige colored room that most resembled the waiting room at a muggle hospital. The walls and ceiling were beige, the floor thinly carpeted in something brown with a few dark stains, the chairs were deeply worn and very uncomfortable. A most irritated-looking office man stood in front of him with arms crossed, tapping his foot and frowning.

The man was fat and balding. There was a mustard stain on his white shirt, to the left of his brown tie. He was speaking in a most irritated fashion.

"Really? I leave for an hour, one hour, to see the end of the Purgatory-Seventh Circle match, and you've gone and died again. I'm not doing this anymore, I swear."

Harry pushed his eyebrows together in confusion and looked around. "I-I'm sorry." He stuttered, "Where is this? I can't remember - I mean, I was sure that I'd..."

"Died?" The man spat, "Well, you have. You're in error correction, for the _fifth time_, I might add. Do you know what this means to my record? Do you?"

Before Harry could say that he didn't, in fact, know anything about what 'this' would do to the man's record, or exactly what his record was of, he'd been grabbed firmly by the shoulder and pulled up out of his seat. In all his confusion, he was only able to make protesting noises as the man dragged him out of the waiting room through a door Harry was sure was not there a minute ago.

"Sit down." Said the man, indicating a chair that seemed to have mysteriously appeared, along with the rest of the very muggle office Harry suddenly found himself in. Not knowing what else to do, Harry sat. This chair was also very uncomfortable.

"If I may, can I ask what's going on here? Is this heaven?" Harry asked, almost hoping the answer was no. He couldn't imagine an eternity in this place.

"No," Said the man in the tone of voice most would say 'duh', "Have you been judged yet? You think you can go straight to heaven without processing? You think it's _all_ just magic, don't you? You wizard types, I swear."

Harry let out a silent sigh of relief, "Okay. Okay then, so where is this?"

"Were you not listening to me all? I said earlier, you're in error correction. It's not my job to interact with the public, I just file papers. But every so often, when one of my watches happens to off themselves early, well it's _my_ fault, for some reason. I shouldn't be expected to stare at you every moment of every day. I mean, why should I be blamed for some mortal's fuck-up? You know what I'm saying?" The man seemed to be asking Harry genuinely. Harry was flustered enough to nod.

The man went on, "So they tell me if you die one more time, that's it. I'm canned. You want me to lose my job, kid?"

Harry shook his head no.

"Nobody wants that," The man ranted, "So this time, you're doing it right. You got me? Capishe? You kill Voldemort, marry your soul mate, and live to a ripe old age of a hundred and forty-two. Of course, letting you keep your memories of this place ain't exactly within the rules. But don't you worry, I've got a loophole. Sign here."

From nowhere (Harry watched carefully this time), the man pulled a hefty sheaf of papers and a pen.

"Last page." Said the man as Harry took them.

Harry found the lettering too small to read. "What does it say?" He asked.

"It says, you are formally allowed to retain memories of what just happened and what I'm about to tell you. That's what it says, look it over if you want while I talk."

The man settled back into his chair, "Now listen carefully. You're confused. I get that, all you mortals are, so I'm going to spell it out real slow. Today is not the first time my old friend Dumbles has let you get yourself killed. It happened in your first year, in that magic room with the mirror, then you got eaten by that giant snake, yada yada, you need to be more careful. Second thing, you need to marry your soul mate, some Granger girl..." The man leafed through a series of papers, which once again, seemed to come from nowhere, then to nowhere vanish when he was done, "Ah, here. Hermione. You know a Hermione?"

Harry was struck, "Um, yes. My best friend Hermione, I've known her since first year. Is she -"

The man chuckled, "Heh, guess I should be a little more aware of my watches' lives, shouldn't I? Ah, whatever. So you take this Hermione girl, and you fall in love. Shouldn't be difficult. You came close a lot of times, just put some effort in. You're soul mates, and that means you belong together. And no skipping out, okay? You need her, love being the power the dark lord knows not. Missing Hermione is why you died this last time. Your soul mate can purify the Voldemort right out of you. Okay, fourth. Third I mean. Whatever. Dumbles, savoir of the light and all that. You trust him?"

Harry thought for a moment, then shook his head.

The man shrugged. "Guess you can't after all that, can ya? Right, here's the thing. He's a Legillimens. That means he reads minds. That means bad, because, well, if it ever gets out that I let some kid keep his memories after a screw-up, well, I'd be a little worse than fired. I did a little looking up, and I've got a plan. Friend of mine spoke with your parents, not that they'd remember. He found out they left you something special. The special Potter Family ring. It's protective, like most family rings. This one in particular protects you from invasions of the mind. Why you never got it, I don't know. See Gringotts about that, they might be able to help."

"My parents?" Harry asked, "Can I see them?"

The man ignored him, "I'm going to send you back to your Hogwarts letter, you got that? Now here's what you want to do: keep it from the Dursleys and apparate to Gringotts fast as you can."

"But I can't -" Harry started.

"That should give you time to get ahold of the ring, meet the Granger girl, and start planning. I'm not going to do everything for you. That's not my job. You ready to go? Sign that document already."

Harry looked down at the paper and pen in his hands. He was confused beyond belief, but figured he had nothing else to do. He signed and the contract dissappeared in his hands.

"Finally," The man said, "We're done here. Now, if I see you again before you're one hundred and forty-two, I'm going to be real pissed, you hear?"

Even as the man was still speaking, Harry saw the world dissappearing around him.

"Wait!" He cried, "Isn't there more you can -"

Harry found himself on brown carpet, in front of a wooden door.

"Tell me?" He couldn't help finishing.

He looked around. Hogwarts letter on the ground, with the rest of the post. He could smell breakfast. Was that not an elaborated hallucination? He'd really gone back in time?

"What's taking you, boy?" Vernon Dursley's voice cried out.

It would appear the answer was yes. Harry quickly tucked the letter into his pocket and returned with the rest of the post.

It would appear he had a lot of life left to live.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry's mind was occupied enough with thinking for him to easily fall back into his old habits. While he flitted about the Dursley house fulfilling summertime chores, his thoughts flitted around his head making plans.

Apparition was wandless magic and he'd learned it especially well during the last year on the run. He wouldn't have trouble getting to Diagon Alley. Could he be tracked? He considered a moment and decided no, as the ministry put trackers on wands and never seemed to notice accidental magic. So long as he was wandless and operated in darkness, he would hopefully be safe.

Of course, the real problem wasn't in logistics. How could he keep his foreknowledge a secret? Should he, even? From the general populace, certainly, he couldn't have any supporters of Voldemort hearing about it. From Dumbledore?

The old man's betrayal had hit Harry rather hard. He still respected Dumbledore. Still felt he understood him. But he could never trust him again, nor rely on him. And if he didn't want to tell Dumbledore, then he couldn't tell almost anyone else either. Not even Ron. They hadn't met yet, Ron had no reason to trust him, to keep secrets from his parents.

What about Hermione? Thinking of her distracted him. He remembered what that man had said. Soul mates. The words made him blush. But what did they even mean, really? What if soul mates were something different in the wizarding world? Oh, but... marry his soul mate. There was no question he admired the bushy-haired witch, trusted her, loved her - what kind of love? He'd told Ron it was as a sister, but had to admit even to himself that during Ron's panic, saying anything else wouldn't have been the best idea.

And what about Ginny? The thought of her made him feel guilty. They hadn't been dating for long, but he was certain they had chemistry. The chemistry he had with Hermione? They had chemistry, sure, but... for love?

His head was more confused and troubled then when he'd woken up in the afterlife.

In any case, he did have to find Hermione. His soul mate. Somehow, she would have the power to dispel the Horcrux inside of him without killing him. They hadn't achieved it last time around. It had to be more than meeting, touching, or affection. Did they have to kiss? Something more? The thought felt dirty, especially when he remembered the effects of going back in time. Hermione was no longer the beautiful, confident, intelligent woman. She had returned to being a little girl.

And he was a young boy. It was remarkable how naturally he moved in his changed body. He felt more like a child than an adult. It was as if he'd somehow attained the memories of his future self without really absorbing them. Maybe that was what happened. Or maybe the strange feeling was the effects of the mind being a plaything of the body rather than the other way around.

Time had flown while his mind spun in circles, before he knew it, it was night, when he was locked in his cupboard under the stairs. Silently moving his fingers, he pried away the seal on the Hogwarts letter to refresh himself on its contents.

None of the letter provided a way for him to contact anyone without already knowing about magic.

He thought for a moment. He had, at one point in his childhood, accidentally apparated to the roof of his school. He was eleven, a little too old for accidental magic and of course couldn't accidentally apparate to somewhere he didn't know exists. The letter said nothing about Gringotts or the Alley in general. Would they believe him if he said he'd taught himself to apparate?

It was a stretch. A very, very long stretch, but maybe. After all, apparation was taught at seventeen due to safety concerns much more than actual ability. If a child could accidentally apparate and it wasn't remarked upon, would purposefully doing it a few years later be so impossible? Hermione had taught herself simple spells before Hogwarts... with the aid of a book.

Maybe he could claim he'd recieved a letter. It was understandable his parents might have arranged for one to be sent in the possibility of their deaths. It was possible, magically. Unlikely Dumbledore would have never known about it, but possible. In the end, he didn't really have much other choice. If that man was to be believed, Dumbledore would attempt to read his mind. The very idea put a bad taste in Harry's mouth. He needed that ring.

With that final thought, he apparated to the doors outside Gringotts.

It was nighttime in the Alley as well. Many shops were closed, some open. Wizards moved about, but very few. Harry kept his bangs over his scar and hurried inside the thankfully open doors of Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

Every desk was filled with a goblin scribbling away at something or another. He supposed Gringotts never slept. The goblins on duty weren't ones he recognized. Night staff.

He didn't have a key, but he did have himself. He hoped that would be enough. He didn't think the ring could have been in the other vault anyway, so Hagrid's key wouldn't be of any use.

He marched right up to an empty desk. The goblin looked at him, appearing perturbed by the presence of a customer.

"Can I help you?" He asked, already looking back down at his paperwork.

"Yes, please. I'm Harry Potter. I'd like to claim the Potter Family Ring now." He looked right to the goblins turned eyes, trying to seem completely sure of himself and confident.

The goblin did not seem to care that the child before him claimed to be Harry Potter. He sighed and spoke, "To ascertain you are who you say you are, we'll need to take blood. That's a two galleon fee."

"I have funds in my vault you can draw from. I'll take the test, please."

Without a further question, the goblin rose from his work and led Harry to a back room, sparsely decorated, where a parchment and a knife were available.

"Cut your hand or another preferred spot using the knife. Allow blood to fall onto the parchement. We need a minimum four drops." The goblin said, watching him boredly.

Harry lifted the knife, surprised at its heft. It was sharp, thankfully, and only a little painful when he sliced through his palm. He counted the drops as they ran down and fell. One, two, three, four, five, six, then the bleeding calmed. He noted his wound did not heal and wondered if the dagger was mundane.

The parchment, at least, was not. His blood spread thinly across it, forming swirls of text, all in the goblin language, so to Harry, illegible. The words filled a third of the page.

As the goblin inspected it, Harry felt nervous. What if it for some reason didn't work?

The goblin's only confirmation was a raise of his eyebrows, momentary and easy to miss. He left the room, but didn't indicate for Harry to follow. Within moments, he'd returned, carrying a small safebox.

"We'll need your blood again." The goblin said, handing over the box. Harry squeezed his palm, reopening the wound and releasing a few drops. They fell onto the metal of the box and were absorbed, dissappearing. The box clicked open almost instantly.

Inside were a few pieces of jewelry in gold, adorned with rubies, the style reminding him of Gryffindor. There was a single ring. It didn't stick out from the other pieces, but Harry could only assume it was what he wanted.

He withdrew it from the box, placed it on his finger, and felt its effects instantly. A powerful magic swept over his being and arranged itself, then faded from his senses.

"Will you take the other pieces at this time?" The goblin asked.

Harry hesitated a moment "I'm not sure." He said, "I was only informed of the ring. Do we... have a goblin on hand who could detemine if the items are enchanted? Forgive me, I'm really not aware of most magic. I've only recently come into the knowledge that I am a wizard at all."

Harry applauded himself for keeping within his lie. It was far easily than he had thought it would be.

Wordlessly, the goblin lifted a gold and ruby necklace from the box and held his free hand over it.

"Enchanted to protect the mind from invasion."

He returned the necklace to the box and picked up a ruby-studded bangle. "Same." He said after a moment. He repeated this with a thin bracelet, a pair of earrings, and a second ring that had been hiding under the other pieces of jewelry. Every item was enchanted in the same way.

"Is it a compound effect?" Harry asked.

"No," Replied the goblin, "These enchantments are already strong enough to prevent mental invasion in any capacity. I would assume they are available for other members of House Potter, so that secrets stay in the family rather than only with the head."

Harry wondered if instead he should take the bracelet or the necklace, which would be easier to hide under robes. But that man had told him about the ring in particular.

"Does the Head of House ring have any advantages over the other pieces?" He asked.

The goblin was surprisingly patient with him, "Yes. Along with the mental defense enchantments, it hold the properties of any other Head of House ring. It is not easily removed from your finger without your permission. Twist it three times around your finger to conceal it from most eyes. It can be used as identification in the magic world and is useful for many legal matters. Most pureblood families will respect you just for wearing it, as if you were not the actual Head of your House, the ring would reject you."

"Useful." Harry said, almost whistling. He twisted the ring thrice round his finger. It dissappeared from view, but Harry could still feel it on his hand. He shook his hand a little. The ring didn't budge.

Of course, the other pieces could be useful too. If he gave a bit of jewelry to Hermione, then he could tell her about what he'd seen without worry the information would get out. He looked at the other pieces, just one would be enough. What would Hermione like most?

The other ring, he supposed. It was a thinner, more feminie band than what he wore, more discreet. Aside from formal events, he'd never known Hermione to wear jewelry. He imagined she would put up with that piece the best.

"I'll take both rings with me, but I'd prefer to leave the rest in Gringotts safe care. Thank you." Harry said to the goblin.

As they placed the rest of the jewelry back into the box, Harry asked one last thing.

"Sir, is there any way we might keep this..."

"Gringotts is always discreet." The goblin said.

With that, Harry allowed himself to be led out and apparated away, for the moment returning to the Dursleys'. He'd have to speak with Hermione another night, as he had forgotten one very important detail: he could not remember where she lived.


End file.
